"Oh, how can I do that? She is my sister! Besides, _he_ loves her, Marie!" Flower sighed. "And shows vair bad taste, in my opinion, ma'amselle," the maid replied, candidly, and added, "and you show vair poor judgment in letting her go free." CHAPTER XLVIII. Azalia Brooke was touched by the devotion of the pretty maid to whom she was thus a second time indebted for the preservation of her life. She believed that the girl was really fond of her and true to her, and in spite of her lowly position she regarded her as a valued friend. She had rewarded her handsomely for rescuing her from the terrible cellar to which Jewel had cruelly consigned her, and the grateful girl had been eager to quit the service of the mistress she feared for that of the beautiful, gentle English girl. Little by little she had become acquainted with much of the history of the two girls, and now it crossed the mind of Azalia to confide all to her, under a pledge of secrecy. "Marie is so bright and clever that perhaps she may suggest something that will throw light on my dark fate," she thought. So the piteous story of her girlhood was told with bitter sobs and raining tears to the good Marie, who listened with pity and sympathy for the lovely young victim, and deep indignation against the foes who had wronged her so heartlessly. "And you were his wife--Mr. Meredith's wife? How dare he then think of making Miss Fielding his bride?" she demanded, in her excitable _melange_ of French and English so impossible to reproduce on paper, pieced out as it was with expressive gestures. "I believed myself his wife," Azalia said, with burning cheeks; "but Jewel declares that he deceived me, that the marriage ceremony was a sham. Perhaps it was, else how dare he betroth himself to Jewel beneath my very eyes?" Marie's twinkling dark eyes looked up with a strange gleam. "He may not recognize you under this new name--he may believe you dead," she said. "But Jewel has told me that he did recognize me, Marie." "Pouf! Miss Fielding's statements are not to be taken for the truth," Marie answered at once, contemptuously; then she added, thoughtfully: "But the marriage paper he gave you--I should like to know who stole that." Azalia could not help owning that she had always suspected Jewel, and almost ere the words left her lips Marie sprung to her feet, excitedly. "Oh, why didn't I think of it before?" she exclaimed. "Of course she has them, for she has some papers that I have seen her gloating over several times, with such a happy face, that I thought they were love letters! But now I do not doubt that they were the papers you speak of--your marriage-certificate, and perhaps the diary of your dead father that she stole from the cabin of the mulatto Sam." Azalia's beautiful, despairing face flushed suddenly with hope. "Oh, Marie, if we could only get possession of those papers!" she exclaimed, eagerly. "And why not?" answered Marie, radiant.